The Silence of the Poets

Up to now all the poetry I have posted on Doah's Ramblings have been poems that I wrote. I thought I would share someone else's poem. This is my favorite poem written by someone not related to me. Let me know what you think . . . .

THE SILENCE OF THE POETS

is something to be grateful for.
One there were so many books, so many poets.
All the masterpieces one could never read,
indistinguishable even then
among the endless shelves of the unreadable.

Some claim the best stopped writing first.
For the others, no one noted when or why.
A few observers voiced their mild regret
about another picturesque, unprofitable craft
that progress had irrevocably doomed.

And what was lost? No one now can judge.
But we still have music, art, and film,
diversions enough for a busy people.
And even poetry for those who want it.

The old books, those the young have not defaced,
are still kept somewhere,
stacked in their dusty rows.

And a few old men may visit from time to time
to run their hands across the spines
and reminisce,
but no one ever comes to read
or would know how.

--Dana Gioia